


Empty Glass

by notaguitarfret



Series: "They're all girlfriends" AU [5]
Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Bulimia, Duke is still lowkey gay, F/F, Fluff, Light Angst, McNamara's just really sweet in this, Mild Hurt/Comfort, also Veronica and Chandler get really drunk, and McNamara's highkey gay, but very heavily implied, not mentioned by name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:56:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret
Summary: During a game of Never Have I Ever, Heather Duke gets too drunk and ends up vomiting. Heather McNamara stands by her to make sure she doesn't end up passed out on her bathroom floor.





	Empty Glass

**Author's Note:**

> HEY so quick important note, as I implied in the tags, I focus very heavily on Heather Duke's bulimia in this piece. If you're sensitive to that kind of thing then it's probably best not to read.
> 
> another note, I'm not as educated on the eating disorder as I'd like to be quite yet, so if anything in this is inaccurate... that's why. also please tell me if anything is inaccurate, i'll be happy to go back and change it.
> 
> ALSO in case your new here, this is a continuation from my last entry in this series (which is where the background chansaw is coming from). if you haven't already, i recommend reading the last entry first :'0

“Never have I ever… had shower sex?”

Heather took another sip of her alcohol in response to Veronica’s question. She could feel her head begin to grow heavy as she weighed it down with more and more vodka. Her surroundings felt like they were beginning to merge together.

“Aww, Heather…” she heard Heather Chandler coo. She glanced at her, thinking she may have been directing her pity at her, but realised her attention was on Heather Duke. “You’ve never came in a shower?”

Duke didn’t reply, instead just slapped Chandler’s hand away. Heather, dazed, watched Duke cover her mouth with her hand, holding back a gag.

“Shit- Heather-” Her hand found McNamara’s shoulder, which took its precious time dragging her out of her disorientated state. Her head snapped over to her, her brain finally figuring out why she was gagging. _She’s gonna vomit_.

“Oh-” she gasped, gripping onto Heather’s outstretched arm. “Shit, come on, Heather.” She hopped off of the pull-out bed that the group of friends had been sitting on, feeling herself almost topple over when standing up. While her body was completely imbalanced, she reached over to Duke and linked her arm with hers, dragging her up with her. She had to lean on her slightly to keep herself from falling backwards.

“If we’re quick we can make it to the bathroom,” she told her, leading her out the room in a hurried, yet clumsy state. She shut the door behind her and stumbled towards the staircase. Duke had began to slow once they were there, so Heather was forced to wrap her hand around her waist in order to pull her up the stairway.

Half way up, Duke tripped and slammed into the steps.

“Ow!” she yelped, clutching onto her stomach, groaning in pain. McNamara couldn’t tell if that was due to hitting her stomach on the stairs or because she was feeling the contents of her stomach beginning to force its way out, but she dared not take any chances.

“Heather, come on, my dad will kill me if you vomit on the stairs!” She gripped the girl’s sides and hauled her back onto her feet, then continued to drag her to the second floor. The bathroom was luckily one of the closest doors, which made it easier for Heather to grab the door, swing it open, and practically throw Heather in there just in time before puke came pouring out of her mouth.

Heather cringed at the sound of her gagging, along with the sloshing of the vomit mixing with the toilet water. She could have easily left Heather to her own devices, but it felt wrong abandoning her while she was puking her guts out. Even if the sounds made her stomach churn, she found herself sauntering over to her.

“Are you alright, Heather?” she asked cautiously, trying to catch a glimpse of her face, despite it currently hanging over the toilet seat. She didn’t get a response straight away due to there still being vomit pouring out her mouth.

“What d’you think?” she eventually croaked, though was unable to look at her due to the black strands of hair covering her eyes and sticking to her skin. Following her snarky reply was another round of gags, leading to more vomit splashing in the toilet.

Heather looked at the girl, grappling onto the seat with a weak grip, knees tucked underneath her. With Heather still standing up, her friend looked so tiny and helpless. She felt a twinge of pity swell in her chest, which convinced her to kneel down next to her and begin to rub her back, trying to ignore how close she was to the sounds of hurling.

Soon enough, it seemed there was nothing left to spew up, to both of their relief. Duke let out a long, pained, yet relieved sigh, before ungracefully gyrating around. Heather pulled her hand away and watched as Duke slumped against the toilet, her hair flopping over the seat. Heather’s face scrunched up at the sight, and she couldn’t hold back from grabbing the loose strands and tucking them over Duke’s shoulder. She looked a lot more presentable when her hair was styled like that.

“You dressing me up for prom or some shit?” Duke muttered, looking at her through glazed green eyes.

“I don’t want your hair to be coated in vomit,” McNamara responded. Duke scoffed, before lifting up some ends of her hair, stuck together by drops of vomit. She coiled back, slightly grossed out at the sight.

“Too late for that,” Duke said, a loose smile hanging off her face. “Don’t give me that look, me vomiting is normal, isn’t it?”

McNamara shot her a pitiful look, which earned her an eye roll.

Heather sat there for a moment, her intoxicated head trying to think of what to do next. She glanced at Heather, who was wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand. It was pretty gross.

“Maybe you should get cleaned up,” McNamara said.

“No shit,” Duke replied. McNamara ignored her retort and picked herself up off the tiled floor, almost toppling over when she stood up.

 _Oh yeah, I’m still drunk,_ she thought to herself, before pinching the sleeve of Heather’s green shirt. Duke didn’t budge at first, but eventually clambered onto Heather’s sides to haul herself off of the ground. She had to grab her shoulders to keep herself balanced.

“Did you drink much?” McNamara asked, latching her arm around her waist to give her extra support.

“Dunno. Go down and check how empty my bottle is,” she said, lumbering down the hallway.

“Not right now! I gotta get you cleaned up first,” McNamara told her, reaching for a door that lead to her bedroom. Duke muttered something inaudible through her teeth, but let herself be dragged into the room.

Once Duke was on the bed, McNamara went over to the wardrobe.

“The fuck you doing now?” Duke muttered as Heather began to flick through her hung up clothes.

“You’re not sleeping in that,” she replied, pointing to her outfit. Duke looked down at her tight peplum shirt and navy blue skirt.

“I can change when I get home?” She gave her a weird look.

“You’re staying overnight,” Heather said, turning towards her with a stern look, which immediately faded when she was met with a venomous stare. “...If you want.”

“When did I agree to that?”

“You didn’t, I just think it would be best if you stayed here.”

Heather scorned at her, but didn’t argue. McNamara went back to searching for something that Heather would be comfortable sleeping in. She couldn’t find anything on the hangers, so she began to dig through the boxes of casual clothes that she hardly ever got to wear. Eventually she found an old indigo coloured dressing gown that she hadn’t worn in years.

“Here you go,” she said, throwing the clothing over to her. Duke’s slow, drunk brain wasn’t fast enough to raise her hands to catch it, so instead it landed on her face. McNamara winced. “Sorry.”

Duke said nothing, just yanked it off.

“I might as well get changed now,” she muttered. “I don’t really wanna go back downstairs.”

Heather, after shutting the wardrobe, came over to her and sat next to her. It was much needed - her head was still swaying.

“How come?” she asked.

“Well, for one, I don’t want Heather chanting at me to drink any more. I will actually drop dead.” She began to fiddle with the gown, trying to find where the top and bottom was. “Also, I don’t think I can deal with Heather and Veronica’s staring contest.”

Heather looked at her in confusion. “Staring contest?”

“As in, how they’ve been arguing all night,” she explained in a slower pace. Heather nodded in understanding.

“Yeah… why are they being so… bitchy tonight?”

Heather huffed. “Veronica told me she was trying to keep Heather from being a bitch to you.”

McNamara’s lips curled into a smile. The girls’ constant bickering had been annoying, but knowing Veronica’s intentions were to keep her from getting a verbal ass-kicking made her chest grow warm and fuzzy.

 _She’s such a good friend,_ she thought to herself.

“Cute,” she simply said. Heather gave her an odd look, but soon turned her attention to her gown.

“Could you leave while I get changed?” Duke asked, though it sounded less like a request and more like an order. McNamara smiled.

“Sure. I’ll be right back.”

She got up off the bed and left the room, making sure to shut the door behind her. Still feeling her body rocking back and forth by itself, she decided it would be best if she sobered up, if not just a little. Leaving Duke to her own devices, she went downstairs to fetch a glass (or glasses) of water. On her way, she passed the door to the living room, and couldn’t help but slow down to listen into whatever it may be that Heather and Veronica were doing.

She expected to hear either silence or arguing, so she was rather surprised to hear laughter tumbling from the room. It gave her a sense of relief, knowing she wouldn’t have to constantly check that they hadn’t tore each other into pieces (not that she could do much if that was the case).

She grabbed a glass in each hand and turned the tap on with her finger, then held one glass beneath the water squirting from the nozzle, then did the same with the other.

She decided to quickly chug the glass that she had decided would be hers, gulping it down in one go. Once it was empty, she refilled it, all the while wiping a lone drop of water running down her chin with her shoulder.

As soon as the water began to overflow from the cup, she turned the tap off and returned upstairs. She opened the door to her bedroom without thinking, and only realised her mistake once she stepped inside.

“Ever heard of _knocking_ , Heather?” Duke scolded, clumsily covering her half-naked body with the gown that she had yet to put on. McNamara yelped, before darting out the room again.

“Sorry!” she cried, standing outside the room. She waited a few moments, before Duke finally spoke.

“Whatever. Come in now.”

Heather cautiously stepped into her bedroom, shutting the door with her foot due to her hands being full. Heather was now sitting on the end of her bed, dressing gown on.

“Here, I got you this,” she said, lending her a glass of water. Duke looked at it with a deadpan expression, before taking it out of her hand.

“Uhh… sorry for walking in on you-” she attempted to apologise, only to be cut off.

“I wasn’t naked or anything, so it doesn’t matter,” she stated, shrugging. McNamara hesitantly set next to her.

While Duke took a sip of her water, McNamara glanced at her. She spotted the clumps of vomit that still lingered in her hair.

“Do you want to wash that out?” she asked, pointing to the dried strands. Duke’s gaze followed to where she was pointing, and landed on the sick.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t.”

McNamara simpered, before standing up yet again, grabbing her arm. Duke took a moment to figure out why, though eventually got the hint that Heather was dragging her somewhere - that somewhere being the bathroom.

McNamara left Heather by the door, placing her glass on the bathroom counter and turning the shower on. She grabbed the shower nozzle and gestured for Heather to come over to her.

“The fuck you trying to do, fuck me with the nozzle?” Duke muttered, placing her glass next to McNamara’s.

McNamara whipped her head around to face her, her face heating up by her comment.

“Wh- no! I was gonna use it to wash your hair!”

Duke sniggered. “I know, I’m just messing with you.”

McNamara pouted, but had the shower nozzle at the ready as she came over next to her.

“How are we doing this without getting wet?” Duke questioned, leaning against the bathtub which grew more and more soaked as the water sprayed all over the walls and base.

McNamara, still drunk, stared at her. _The hell do you mean_ wet _?_

It took her a second to realise that she was taking it the wrong way.

“Oh!” she blurted out. “Uh- one second.” McNamara slipped her socks off and clambered into the bathtub, her feet getting coated in water as soon as she did so. She turned to Duke.

“Just lean over, I’ll do the rest.”

Duke arched a brow at her. “You’re getting your clothes wet.”

She looked down at her yellow dress which, sure enough, had splatters of water on it already. She shrugged.

“I’ll get changed. Now come here.”

Duke kneeled onto the floor, her head leaning over the tub. McNamara kneeled down as well, getting even more of herself soaked. She held Duke’s head up with one hand, and began to soak her black, vomit-stained locks.

“This could have been avoided if you’d pulled my hair back instead of rubbing my back,” Duke said as McNamara combed her hair with her fingers. McNamara paused when she said that.

“...Oh yeah.” She tried not to gag as she stroked her hand over some vomit. “Too late now.”

McNamara then reached for the closest shampoo bottle and squeezed some onto her hair, which seemed to alarm her.

“Wait, we’re doing a full wash?”

“Vomit isn’t going to come out with just water,” McNamara told her, smiling. “Also, I like it when your hair looks all shiny.”

Duke blinked at her. “Thanks… I guess?”

“You’re welcome.” McNamara ignored the uncertainty she could hear in her voice. _Take the compliment,_ she told her internally.

 

* * *

 

Heather Duke had to shut her eyes while the soapy spuds began to drip off of her hair and down her face. She’d been avoiding closing her eyes up until this point - she knew that if she did, she’d probably fall asleep under Heather’s gentle touch.

She ended up resting her chin on her folded arms, tilting her head forward slightly so that the water wouldn’t to run down the back of her neck. She felt herself shiver as Heather’s fingertips massaged her scalp.

 _Wow, look at me,_ she thought. _Drunk, covered in vomit and ravishing Heather-fucking-McNamara’s care._

She was grateful Heather Chandler was too busy snapping at Veronica’s throat downstairs to be standing behind her and call her a fucking pillowcase. For once, she felt like she could get away with just… letting herself go.

“Heather?”

Duke whipped her head up and caught McNamara’s gaze.

“What?”

McNamara sweetly smiled at her.

“Nothing, I thought you were falling asleep.”

 _I was_.

Heather went back to work on her hair, and she could relax again.

She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so… at peace? Yeah, let’s go with that. At _peace_ after puking. Hell, was there ever a time?

She blinked one eye open when she heard the sound of a bottle squirt. She saw Heather holding another bottle - this one being conditioner.

“You’re really going all out with this,” Duke murmured tiredly as Heather continued to run her fingers through her hair.

“It looked like you threw up pretty hard, so…”

Duke let out a disbelieving huff. “Far from it.” A weak smile appeared on her face, though it was out of Heather’s view due to it being buried under her arms. “Throwing up some shots of alcohol is way better than an entire meal.”

Heather went silent, and her movements slowed. Duke glimpsed at her.

“That was a joke,” she stated bluntly.

“It wasn’t very funny,” McNamara shot back, her voice quiet. Duke rolled her eyes, but said nothing.

It wasn’t long until Heather finished up on her hair and turned the shower off. It was Heather’s cue to look up, and couldn’t help but feel slightly disappointed that their mini hair salon had to come to a close.

Regardless, she lifted her head up from the bathtub while McNamara stood up, and Duke saw just how soaked her dress got.

“Kinda dumb for you to sit in the bathtub with your dress on,” Duke commented, flipping over so that her back was leaning against the tub. Heather just shrugged as she stepped out and onto the floor.

“It’ll dry. It’s only water.” She turned to her. “You just gonna lie there or…?”

Heather pouted as she angled her head to face her. Her energy had been drained from the vomiting, so McNamara massaging her aching head had practically put her to sleep.

“I’m tired, Heather, you’ll have to carry me,” she sighed, holding her hands in the air, her tone melodramatic.

McNamara gave a groan, before leaning over to hook her hands under Duke’s leg and shoulders, then lifting her from the cold tiled floor. Duke’s eyes widened, her gaze darting from the floor up to Heather.

“I was being sarcastic, but whatever floats your boat?”

“Oh.” McNamara gave a dumbfounded look. “Too late now.”

With that, she carried Duke out of the bathroom and down the hallway, back towards her bedroom. Heather found the scenario odd, and usually would have poked fun at the situation, but she didn’t want to provoke Heather into dropping her. She had to admit, being carried after vomiting her guts out was… nice. She may have been used to the feelings that came with vomiting, but that didn’t make the experience any easier.

Just once, and once only, she was able to escape the feeling of hauling herself off the bathroom floor back onto her high heels, and forcing herself to stand as tall as she could while walking past the numerous students of Westerburg. Sure, that was her routine, but fucking hell it was a difficult one.

Heather hadn’t noticed herself enter Heather’s bedroom, and jolted in surprise when she was gently placed on the soft mattress.

She looked up at Heather. Damn, she hadn’t broken a sweat. Just how strong was this tiny blonde?

When her green eyes locked with her brown, Duke was surprised to find a glint of concern in her gaze. Before she could even consider questioning it, though, McNamara spoke.

“Do you need anything else?”

Duke looked thoughtful for a moment, before shrugging.

“Nope.”

The corners of her mouth picked up slightly.

“Alright, well, I’m just gonna get changed,” she said, strutting over to her wardrobe. “I’ll be back in about five minutes.” She grabbed a yellow nightgown from one of the hangers.

Duke’s mouth twitched, then she looked to the nightstand, expecting to see her glass of water.

_Shit, I left it in the bathroom._

“Actually, could you grab my water from the bathroom?”

McNamara turned to her and nodded, tossing her nightgown onto the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving the room.

After watching the door shut, Heather let her head fall back onto the pillow. She let out a tranquil sigh as she sank into the soft, luxurious material, allowing her drooping lids to shut.

She felt very lightheaded - any aching that she may have felt before was slowly deteriorating. Nothing was left in its wake, only a sense of emptiness. Her body was clearly desperate to go to sleep after being dragged around school, powered by nothing but caffeine and water, only to get drunk and spit any of the content residing in her stomach into the toilet. God… she needed some fucking sleep.

She decided to block out the recent memories of her puking, and instead think about how soothing Heather’s nursing had been. As much as she hated to admit it, she really wished she could experience her care more often. The feeling of her fingers running through her hair had been so enjoyable, and had somehow relaxed her body into feeling tired. Not in an exhausted way, but more of a restful way. Usually she’d end up passing out against her will.

Needless to say, it was a nice change.

 

* * *

 

Heather grabbed the two glasses on the bathroom counter and made her way downstairs, being quick on her feet. She didn’t want to keep Heather waiting too long.

She was relieved to find her footing to be less imbalanced. It appears that she had already began to sober up.

She made it to the bottom of the stairs, and it was then when she remembered that Heather and Veronica were still in the other room. She had subconsciously expected to hear their voices again, so she was surprised to be greeted with silence. Oh, God. Hopefully they didn’t murder each other while she was gone.

She swiftly trekked over to the kitchen and placed Heather’s cup down next to the sink, before turning around to head back towards the living room door. She wasn’t planning on coming back down to join them again - she’d be worrying about Heather’s current state too much to sit still. She figured she ought to tell them rather than leaving them to their own devices.

She took another sip of her water as she began to push open the door. While doing so, she heard a loud thump from inside the living room, which she questioned in her mind but didn’t ponder on it for long. Once the door was wide open, she locked her gaze with a pair of startled eyes.

She didn’t give their surprise a second thought, assuming they were just loopy from the vodka.

“Hey, uh, sorry I took so long…” she began. It was Heather who spoke first.

“Yeah… Where the fuck were you this whole time?” she said, her words coming out of her mouth slowly. Clearly she had drank a lot more alcohol while she was gone.

 _Probably best that I don’t tell her I just spent twenty minutes washing vomit out of Heather’s hair,_ she mused.

“Well, Heather vomited her guts out, so I had to sober up-” she shook the glass in her hand, the water splashing about in the cup, “-and make sure she was okay. She’s, uhh…” _Currently in my bed and getting some rest?_ “...Kinda passed out.” She pointed towards the ceiling, knowing that her room was just above them. “I came down to tell you that she can’t go home, she’s just staying overnight.”

Chandler let out a frustrated grunt. “ _Great_ , that means I’m stranded ‘ere. And so is _she_.” She pointed to Veronica.

 _Maybe you shouldn’t have drank so much,_ is what she would’ve said, had Chandler not been (trying to be) on her ass tonight. Instead, she offered an apologetic look.

“Oh… where you hoping she’d be able to drive you?”

“Yes. If I drive, then it’s bye-bye Heather Chandler.” Her hand made what was supposed to be a waving gesture, though it was groggy and flopped in the air sporadically. Jesus, how drunk was this woman? “And Veronica Sawyer, if she rode with me.”

McNamara stared at Chandler, observing just how _red_ her cheeks were.

“Um… how drunk are you?”

“ _Very,_ ” Veronica chimed in.

“Oh…” McNamara pretended to sound shocked, knowing the Heather wouldn’t be able to pick up her sarcasm in her drunken state.

McNamara went on to tell the drunken pair that she wouldn’t be coming back down, followed by her and Veronica laughing at just how _wasted_ Chandler was, before McNamara shut the door and returned to the kitchen.

 _I’m surprised they haven’t ripped each other’s throats out yet,_ she thought to herself as she turned the tap on.

 

* * *

 

Heather was in that awkward half-way stage, where she was sort of asleep but she was still aware of her surroundings, but her senses weren’t entirely processing said surroundings, so she was just kind of floating in a void.

Perhaps that’s why she wasn’t aware of Heather being in the room, despite hearing muffled shuffling and footsteps.

It was only when she was broken out of her closed bubble did she realise she wasn’t alone.

A light tap on her arm was enough to break her out of her daze. She jolted awake and locked eyes with Heather.

“Hey, water’s there,” she said, placing a full glass of water on the nightstand next to her. Not a second after she did so, Heather reached over to grab it with one arm, and using her other to push herself up into a sitting position. She took a gulp of the water, feeling a sense of relief to have her drying mouth become moist again.

She hardly noticed the mattress sink beneath her until after she returned the glass to its home on the table. She looked to her side and saw that Heather was now sitting in the bed next to her, and it was only then did she realise that she’d already changed into her pajamas.

“You feeling better now?” she asked, offering a considerate smile. Duke yawned, running her fingers through her still-wet hair.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Me too,” she said, looking up at the light. “Want me to switch the light off?”

“I mean, I don’t want you to keep it on,” Duke retorted. McNamara curtly nodded, then slipped off of the bed and over to the light switch. There was a flick, and the room went close to pitch black, other than the grey moonlight seeping through the gap in the blinds.

It wasn’t until then did Duke realise her eyes had been aching horribly. She allowed them to close, taking comfort in the lack of light beating down on her. She flopped onto the pillow again, letting any energy she may have had left seep out of her.

She blinked open one eye when she felt a shoulder brush against her own.

“You’re sleeping with me?”

Duke would’ve snapped at herself for her very, very poor wording.

“I-I mean-”

McNamara cut her off with a giggle.

“It’s that, or I sleep in the guest room, which would also mean that either Heather and Veronica are sleeping in the same guest room, or one of them sleeps on the couch.” Heather could vaguely see her eyes in the dark, the moonlight glistening on her brown irises. “I feel bad making Veronica sleep on the couch, and there’s no way in hell I’m making Heather sleep on the couch, and-”

“Them sleeping in the same bed is an awful, _awful_ idea,” Duke finished for her.

McNamara nodded, chuckling. “Though, surprisingly, they were still alive when I went to check on them.”

“Holy fuck, praise the Lord, he’s working miracles.”

The two girls laughed. Then silence.

“Well…” Duke murmured. “Goodnight, then?” She flipped onto her side, away from McNamara. “And don’t kick me in my sleep.”

McNamara let out a huff of laughter. “I’ll try.”

As Duke shut her eyes, she was immediately reminded of the last time she’d shared a bed with someone, only a few nights ago. She then thought about how silly it was to assume Heather would kick her in her sleep when the person she had shared a bed with has much longer legs than her.

_Veronica’s the tallest one out of all of us, and I was just fine._

She thought more about that night, and how she’d buried herself into Veronica’s embrace, for no other reason other than _it was comfortable._

She’d been comfortable that night. Much more comfortable than many of her other nights. Usually she’d constantly wake up to her body acting up, that is if she even got to sleep in the first place. While all of that would happen, her brain would be begging for her to _go back to sleep, you stupid fuck_.

She let out an almost inaudible groan thinking about it. God, she hoped her body and brain wouldn’t go to war tonight.

 

* * *

 

A loud thump was what woke McNamara up. She shot up from her bed, now fully alert. She looked to her side, her first thought being that Duke may have fallen off the bed.

Clearly not, since she seemed to be sleeping soundly. She couldn’t see her too well in the dark, other than the grey rim lighting stroking her soft tan skin, her shiny black hair (which was still a little bit wet) and the soft fabric draped over her small, curvy figure.

McNamara felt the corners of her mouth curl. Considering the fact that she had been hunched over her toilet a few hours before, Heather looking so peaceful made her feel like she did a good job taking care of her.

 _I probably should’ve removed her makeup, though,_ she thought, gazing at her green eye shadow and pink lipstick, along with the winged eyeliner than had been smudged while warm water had been dripping down her face. Part of her knew that waking up in the morning with a face covered in concealer was anything but pleasant, but the other part couldn’t help but admire how pretty she looked, despite barely being visible in the dark of her room, as well as there being stray black locks stuck to her face.

While she gazed at her friend, another thump snapped her out of her thoughts. Right - something had woken her up.

She listened out, trying to figure out what the noise could be. She assumed it might have been her father coming home, and that he’d slammed a door or dropped something downstairs. But as she continued to listen, she was able to work out that that wasn’t the case.

She could hear muffled, drunken laughter sound from somewhere in the house. She could take a guess that it was somewhere near the staircase.

Shooting Heather one last glance, she threw the cover off of her and stumbled tiredly over to her door. She made sure to reduce the amount of creaking made by the door as it opened, as well as to make a very quiet _click_ when closing it. She was relieved to step out into the lit corridor, allowing her to be able to see where she was stepping.

As she got closer to the end of the corridor, the laughter became louder.

She stopped at the top of the stairs. So _that’s_ what it was.

Staring down the stairway, she found Veronica, slumped on a step that marked about half way up the staircase. At the bottom was Heather Chandler, lying across several steps, her face half-buried in her arms as she cackled.

“Uh…” was all McNamara was able to say. Regardless, it was enough to grab Veronica’s attention, who whipped her head up to face her with a lopsided grin.

“Oh heyyy, Heather!” she greeted, words dragging out longer than needed. Chandler snapped her head up to Veronica.

“What d’ya want?”

Veronica turned to her. “Noooo, _Heather_ ,” she clarified, pointing to the top of the staircase. Heather’s inebriated gaze followed Veronica’s finger up to McNamara.

“Ohhh, Heather!” she exclaimed. McNamara forced a smile.

“Yep… it’s me…” She couldn’t really process much else. The sight before her was just so bizarre - particularly Heather. In all the years she’d known her, she may have only ever seen her this drunk once or twice.

“Heather…” Veronica whined, attempting to pull herself up with the wooden banister, but instead ending up swinging back and forth sporadically on the edge of the step, her knees tucked just below her chin. Literally the only thing preventing her from falling backwards and breaking her neck on the stairs below was her grip on the banister. “Heather,” she repeated. “Heather can’t gettup the stairs…” Laughter began to tumble out of her mouth.

“Shhhuttup, Sawyer,” Heather muttered, dragging herself up to the next step.

As funny and strange this whole thing was, if she left these two without any supervision, one of them was going to fall down the stairs (even though Heather only had one step to fall down).

“Maybe it’s best if I take you two to bed?” McNamara offered.

“We’re _trying_ , but Heather’s soooo slowww…” She finally managed to stand up, and opted to lean against the banister instead. The brunette gazed down at Heather, who was on all fours, clambering up the next two steps, before slipping back onto her stomach.

“Okay, you first,” McNamara said, marching down the stairway and grabbing Heather’s sides, hauling her onto her feet. Heather just chortled.

“Heather’s really _strong,_ Ronnie…” she slurred, leaning her head on the shorter girl’s shoulder. McNamara blinked, feeling a slight blood rush in her cheeks.

“It’s a good thing I am, because I think you’ve forgotten how to walk,” she said, dragging her onto the next step.

“‘Scuse me… I can walk _jus’ fine-_ ” Heather slipped out of her grip, only to fall back onto her knees. Heather caught her shoulders so that she wouldn’t fall on her face.

“Come on, Heather,” McNamara told her, pulling her up again and latching her arm around her waist. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Chandler slyly grinned at her. “Gosh, I’m _flattered_.”

Heather stared at her, taking a brief moment to realise what she meant.

“No! As in, you’re going to sleep, Heather.”

Heather rolled her glossy blue eyes. “I _know_ wha’ y’meant.”

The red-haired girl finally cooperated with her and began to take clumsy steps up the stairs. As they passed Veronica, McNamara glanced at her.

“I’m coming back for you,” she said. Veronica just gave her a lopsided grin.

Soon enough, the perilous climb up the stairs was over, and in tern, made the journey down the corridor feel much more easier. It was just unfortunate that the two guest rooms were at the furthest end of the hallway.

McNamara finally released Chandler once they got to the bed, and watched her flop onto it like a lifeless doll, still letting out hefty laughter.

“Jesus,” McNamara murmured. “How much have you drank?” She kept an eye on her as she made her way over to the closet, which was near empty.

“Uhh… dunno… a lot,” Chandler grumbled. “A lot more since we las’ saw you.”

Heather sighed as she grabbed a red nightgown from one of the hangers, along with a blue-grey jumper and grey shorts. She tossed the red clothing over to Heather.

“You can wear that, tonight,” she told her, before turning towards the door. “See you in the morning, Heather.”

“‘Kay.”

McNamara couldn’t hold back a smile as she shook her head, before leaving the room and shutting the door behind her. She then opened the door parallel to the one she had just closed, turned the light on, and threw the remaining clothes she was holding onto the bed.

Then it was off to retrieve Veronica.

As expected, Veronica was still in the same place as before, swaying back on forth against the banister. Heather made her way down towards her and gripped her arm. She decided she didn’t need as much support, since she didn’t appear to be as drunk as Chandler.

“Let’s go,” she said, lightly tugging her towards her. Veronica took a second to react, but was following her soon enough.

Once they were up the stairs, Veronica was able to catch up with her, now walking at the same pace. McNamara looked at her, seeing that her cheeks were red with alcohol.

Then her eyes trailed down. Her neck was also red. And purple.

She had to angle her head forward a little, due to her thick brown hair covering a lot of it, but it was still _there_.

 _What the fuck?_ Heather couldn’t stop staring. _Those are hickeys. How the fuck did they get there?_ She tried to rack her brain for some sort of memory of Veronica coming into her house with a neck covered in bite marks. _No… I’m sure I would’ve noticed…_ that.

Jesus fuck, there were so many of them.

“Uh… Veronica?” Heather cautiously asked. Veronica turned to her, like nothing was odd. “Is your neck okay?”

Veronica raised her eyebrows at her, before bringing up a hand to run her fingers over the numerous bruises.

“Yeah, is fine,” she sniggered. “Heather was jus’ really drunk.”

McNamara stared at her, baffled. The fuck was that supposed to mean?

Before she could ask anymore questions, Veronica had beaten her to the guest room.

“Thanks for savin’ me from the staircase,” she said, grinning, before shutting the door.

Heather stood there, alone in the corridor, stunned.

 _Heather was drunk?_ She glanced over to the door to the other guest room. _What- what? What does that_ mean _?_

Part of her was telling her that the answer was obvious, but the other part just couldn’t believe Heather would’ve… _no,_ she shook her head. _Heather’s the straightest girl I know._

Her feet carried her back to her bedroom.

 _But then… where did those hickeys come from?_ She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. _Did they invite someone over while I was asleep?_

Heather felt like that may have been the most logical answer, but she couldn’t help but feel like she should be going with Occam’s Razor on this one.

 _Let’s just… not think about it too much,_ she told herself as she shut the bedroom door behind her. While she returned to her bed, her mind was buzzing with possible explanations. None of them were sound.

She let out a long sigh as she sank back into her pillow, allowing her eyes to close.

After a few moments of silence, she heard a whimper sound in the dark. Her eyes flashed open.

She lay there still, listening out for the sound. Nothing came for a while.

Then the figure lying in front of her shifted, and another whine could be heard.

“Heather?” She lifted her head off of her pillow and leaned forward a little. Heather didn’t respond, and only curled up into a tight ball, cradling herself.

McNamara cautiously stretched her arm over to her and placed a hand on her arm.

“Heather?” she repeated, louder this time.

Though it was dark, she could still tell she had her eyes tightly shut. Her arms were draped over her stomach, and her hands were tightly gripping her sides.

“Heather, wake up,” she said in the loudest whisper she could muster.

Heather’s face scrunched up. “I _am_ ,” she moaned.

McNamara furrowed her brow. “What’s wrong? You look like you’re in pain.” Perhaps she had cramps?

In an attempt to comfort her, she caressed her arm, and it was then when she began to notice something.

 _She’s shivering._ Her eyes widened a little. Why was she shivering?

“Heather, you’re-”

“Shut up, Heather,” she hissed, burying her face into the pillow. Heather flinched, pulling her hand back, but something about her tone made her question if she had meant it. Usually when Heather snapped at her, there was a hint of venom in her voice. She didn’t hear that this time, though. She heard…

Shame?

McNamara sat up, looking down at the petite girl in front of her. Her face was covered up by her strands of black hair, and her knees were tucked up to her abdomen. Her arms were still locked around her midriff.

“...Heather?” she asked again, her voice weak.

Duke shifted again. She glimpsed at McNamara, her eyes dull.

“Do you need water?” McNamara asked, leaning towards her. Duke didn’t respond, though she did slowly flip onto her back so that she could look at the nightstand. She released her grip on herself and reached out for the glass which glistened in the small amount of light in the room, then sat up to drink what was left in it. McNamara watched her gulp down the clear contents, before she slammed it back onto the counter.

“Do you feel any better?” she asked.

Duke tucked her knees under her chin and hugged them.

“No.”

Heather tilted her head, in both a mixture of sympathy and confusion. She had no idea why Heather was suddenly acting as if she had a fever, but regardless, she looked too distressed for her to ponder on it for long.

Instead, she wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug. She knew nothing wouldn’t come out of it - Heather Duke wasn’t affectionate by any means - but she honestly couldn’t think of what else to do. As she pulled Duke in and rested her on her chest, she braced herself for her to slap her, or yell at her, or-

-melt into her embrace.

Duke buried her head into the crook of her neck, letting out a soft groan as she wrapped her arms around McNamara’s torso.

McNamara was shocked, but was quick to reciprocate. She rested her chin on her head and wrapped her arms around her. She could still feel her shake under her touch, but her tense shoulders seemed to sink.

“It’s… okay…” she murmured, though her voice was thick with uncertainty. She wasn’t sure what she was assuring her of, but what else could she do in this situation?

She sharply exhaled when the grip around her tightened in response. She gazed down at the smaller girl with a considerate look.

“Hey… uh…” She brought her hands up and cupped her face, gently pulling her away so that she could lock her gaze with her hazy, green eyes. Heather stared at her, waiting for her to continue.

“...What?” she said, impatience in her tone.

McNamara pursed her lips, then shrugged. “I… don’t know. I just hope you’re okay?” She gingerly grinned.

Duke gave a tired huff. Heather wasn’t sure whether or not it was supposed to be a laugh.

“I’ll be fine,” she muttered, looking down at her hands. “Shit just happens sometimes.” Another shiver visibly shot through her, and she let out a frustrated groan.

Heather furrowed her brow. “This has happened before?”

Duke shrugged.

“Eh.”

McNamara tilted her head, then brushed some of her drying black locks out of her face.

“You should probably see a doctor about that,” she suggested, a half smile appearing on her face.

Duke let out a “tsk.”

“You’ve said already,” she stated.

“I have?” Heather gave her an odd look, before the realisation hit her. “Oh. I have.”

When Duke didn’t react, something in McNamara’s stomach twisted. She pulled Heather back in for another hug, as if she were afraid to let her go. She buried her fingers in her hair, not caring that she was getting her hand wet in the process.

“Where’d you disappear to, anyway?” Duke’s husky voice sounded, her breath hitting her neck. McNamara ignored the warm flush that passed through her when she spoke.

“I got woken up by a loud thump,” she explained, feeling comfort in the sound of the girl’s usual tone slowly making its return. “I went to check what it was.”

“Oh, I heard that,” she said. “Did you find out what it was?”

McNamara couldn’t hold back a laugh. “Yep. A pissed Veronica laughing at an even more pissed Heather who was failing to climb up the stairs.”

Duke flipped over on her side, resting her temple on Heather’s chest rather than her forehead. She let out a small cackle.

“Jesus, how drunk did she get?”

“Very.”

" _God_ ,” she snickered. “Honestly would’ve loved to see Heather hauling her ass up the stairs.”

“There wasn’t much to see,” Heather said. “She made it about one or two steps up before she fell over.”

Duke laughed. “What a fucking pillowcase.” She let out a long sigh, hooking her hand around McNamara’s arm which was draped around her chest. “Surprised they didn’t tear each other’s throats out, though, considering how they’ve been acting all night.”

McNamara’s mind flashed back to the bruises on Veronica’s neck. She laughed nervously.

“Ha… yeah... real good…”

Before she could say much more, Duke gave a yawn.

“I’m fucking exhausted,” she muttered.

“You wanna go back to sleep?”

“That’s what I’m hinting at,” she retorted, though it wasn’t too harsh. McNamara smiled considerately as she released her from her grip, then lay back down.

“Wake me up if you need anything,” she told her. In the darkness, she could vaguely see Duke roll her eyes.

“I can do shit myself, y’know.”

“I know that,” she murmured. “Just… don’t be afraid to wake me up if you need to.”

“Like I would be anyway,” Duke shot back, before joining Heather on the mattress.

And by that, she meant _actually_ join her.

Heather was startled when her friend crawled up right next to her and settled her head just under her chin. She didn’t mind it but… she just assumed that the consoling session was over.

“Oh, we’re still doing this?” she questioned innocently. Duke glimpsed at her with a joshing glint in her green irises.

“Is there a problem with that?”

McNamara stared back at her, before shaking her head.

“Good.” She then buried her head into her chest.

For a while, McNamara kept her eyes open, still trying to process the fact that Duke was practically clinging onto her.

It was only after McNamara heard and felt slow, calm breaths from Duke did she finally allow herself to sink into the other girl’s embrace and close her eyes. She slipped one hand around her torso and used the other to comb her hair with her fingers, albeit slowly. As she did, she felt Heather shift closer to her, wrapping her arm around her waist. McNamara tilted her head down so that she could bury her face in her hair, which, thanks to her, now had an ocean-esque scent.

While she drifted off into whatever dream may be awaiting her, she absent-mindedly twirled some black locks around her finger, all the while thinking about how warm she was pressed against her, despite the occasional shiver that passed through her. Each time she sensed one, McNamara would pull her closer, as if she could protect her from the cold breeze, even if she couldn’t feel such a cold draft herself.

She didn’t sleep until she heard long, tired breaths from Heather.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Heather had woken up long before Duke. She’d snuck downstairs and thrown some waffles into the toaster.

Having already gotten the syrup and plates set out, she decided to occupy herself while the waffles cooked by entering her living room for the first time since last night.

The pull-out bed was still out. She honestly couldn’t be arsed with folding it back in right now.

Instead, she opted to pick up the abandoned vodka bottles surrounding the bed. The first one she picked up was her own, which she also forgotten to seal with the lid during the panic of Heather almost vomiting on her floor. She found the lid beneath the bed and fastened it tight - she’d be saving that for later.

Next was the two bottles a few feet away from where she had put her own. It was safe to assume that these were Chandler and Veronica’s bottles. She also might add that it was easy to tell which one was which; Chandler’s was a quarter way down while Veronica’s was a little bit more full.

A little bit.

She placed the bottles on the coffee table, before going to find Duke’s bottle.

Only a little bit was gone. Around the same amount as her - if not a little bit less empty.

“That was enough to make her vomit?” she mused to herself, placing it next to her bottle.

Right as she did, she heard the toaster click. She cantered back into the kitchen and grabbed the waffles in the toaster and tossed them onto two of the plates. With two down, she grabbed another two from the packet and threw them in.

As she did, she heard a pair of footsteps behind her. She turned around to see Heather Chandler and Veronica, both groggy and hungover. They stood on the other side of the kitchen, barricaded by the table in the middle of the room.

Seeing the pair suddenly reminded her of the mystery of Veronica’s hickey-ridden neck last night. Being as discreet as she could, she took a peek at the brunette’s neck.

Nothing.

She tried to hide her confusion. _Maybe… I was imagining things?_ She almost scoffed at herself. _I know what I saw._

While she was tempted to try and put the puzzle pieces together, she didn’t want to be standing there in silence while staring at Veronica. She pulled herself away from the thought.

“Look who’s alive!” Heather McNamara grinned, sliding the two plates over to the other side. “You can have these. Syrup is here.” She slid the bottle over to their side of the table as well. Veronica gave a tired but grateful smile.

“Thanks,” is all she said. Chandler didn’t say anything, only grabbed the bottle and squirted the syrup onto her food in and almost violent manner.

McNamara didn’t really blame either of them. With the amount of alcohol they had drank last night, she couldn’t imagine how bad their hangover must have been.

The two of them silently sauntered out of the kitchen and presumably into the living room. While she watched them go, the two other waffles hopped out of the toaster. She grabbed them both and placed them on the remaining plates.

She stared at what would be Duke’s waffle, and pondered on whether or not to leave it here until she came downstairs.

She shook her head, grabbing the plate. _She had a rough night. I’m not dragging her out of bed._

Plate in one hand, syrup in the other, she made the journey back up to her room.

Slowly opening the door, she was happy to see that Duke was awake. She was sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Her head snapped towards the door, having noticed her enter.

“Morning!” she chipped happily. Heather let out a tired moan.

“Fucking morning people.” Once McNamara was standing next to the bed, she finally noticed the plate in her hand, and shot her a questionable look.

“I made us all waffles,” McNamara explained, holding the plate and syrup closer to her. “I wasn’t sure whether or not you wanted syrup on it.”

Heather’s green gaze was glued to the plate.

“...No, I don’t want syrup,” she said dryly. The hand holding the bottle coiled back.

“That’s fine,” she replied, handing her the plate instead.

Duke hesitated before taking the plate into her own hands. After she stared at it for a few moments, McNamara spoke again.

“...Heather and Veronica are downstairs. You can join us if you like,” she offered, grinning hopefully.

Duke continued to stare at her plate, before finally looking up at Heather.

“I’ll be down in a second.”

McNamara’s smile faded a little. It seemed Duke noticed.

“I need to take my makeup off,” she said, pointing to her smudged eyeliner. “It’s been on all night.”

“...Right,” McNamara nodded slowly. “See you in a minute, then?”

Duke placed the waffle on the nightstand, next to her empty glass.

“Yeah.”

McNamara thought about staying in the room with her, but she could tell by how Duke remained in her place, waiting for her to leave, that she’d get irritated if she did so. Not wanting to piss her off, McNamara reluctantly left.

She silently prayed that she wouldn’t throw the waffle away while she was gone.

**Author's Note:**

> don't worry, Duke will see a doctor at some point. perhaps in a future entry.
> 
> by the way, i drew a lil' group shot of the (soon to be) gfs yesterday, so i thought i might as well post it here, just in case anyone's interested! :'0
> 
> https://notaguitarfret.tumblr.com/post/175719690785/veronica-how-do-you-get-away-with-having-three
> 
> (and no, Chandler currently does not have short hair in this au. that'll be coming.... much, much later. which sucks for me because i'm GAY for short-haired Chandler)
> 
> i'm actually thinking of making a side blog on tumblr focused around this au........ if you'd like to see that please let me know!!


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